And the Child Was Enough
by whileimhere10
Summary: Misty's account of her time in the coven and her relationship with Cordelia.
1. Chapter 1

**Foxxay is my new favorite thing! I can't believe I'm so late to the game. A few notes for this story:**

**Cordelia's second sight is a little different in my world. If she touches someone, she can see what they see, not just what they've done.**

**Misty makes a great narrator, but it's hard to write her if you aren't saying it in a raspy, Cajun accent. You may want to read it aloud in your best Misty voice or at least ask your brain to put a filter on.**

**This is the first part of a two-chapter fic. Part two will be sexy and the rating will change, but for now, it's relatively tame. Any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading!**

* * *

><p>The whole story of our lives is about mothers, really. And I don't just mean 'Delia and my story, or the story of the coven, but all of us. Men, women, especially children. I had two mothers: the one that bore me and the one that nourished me. My mama, who passed when I was ten, had watery eyes and thick hair, lookin like a willow tree on the verge of tears. I didn't know then that I could bring her back. I was used to makin' brown leaves green and dry flowers soft again. I had made the leg twitch once on a dead squirrel, but that was too much and I never even told no one about it because it could have just been maggots movin' around, or so I thought. My mama died of somethin' that made her go pale. She didn't want nobody touchin' her in those last days, but she said that my hands gave her comfort, so I sat by her side and we listened to her records play while I braided her hair. When she fell asleep and I cried alone in the rickety chair by her bed, I heard Stevie tellin' me that she would rather be alone than without me, and between her and the birds and the cicadas, I knew that the life rushin' out of my mama's mouth was still hoverin' around me somehow. Same thing when my daddy's car hit the guard rail and he burned so bad the casket had to stay closed. I probably should've figured I'd be next. I didn't know about the rule of three back then, but blight spreads from tree to tree, and me and my siblings were bound to catch something. We were all affected; I just happened to get the worst of it when I went up in flames.<p>

I'm still workin' on the details of this metaphor, but I know it fits somehow. There's these wasps. Parasite wasps. Parasatoid if you want to be formal about it. They fall into two families-Braconidae (which are usually tiny) and Ichneumonidae (which come in all shapes and sizes). I've been reading up on 'em because they're pretty important to my situation. They lay their eggs inside the living bodies of other bugs and when the babies hatch, they eat the other bug from the inside out. Horrible way to die. Well my mother, my second mother, is the one who allows this to happen. I don't know if she's a goddess or a power or somethin' too big to name, but people usually call her names like Nature, or Mother Earth, or Life Itself. It's hard to know what she's like as a parent unless you've lived with her, and I had no idea until I felt the skin grow back over my skull and the soothing mud of her bayou cool my burnin' body. You hear people talk about her like she's either all sunshine or all storms, but she's got rules like anyone else, and if you learn those rules, you can get by real good without askin' her for much.

If you watch the mother wasp, you'll see a few things: One-you'll see a mama who's well-armed. They. Are. Weaponized. Two- it don't matter if you like bugs or not; you'll feel bad for whoever's getting saddled with the babies. Three-you'll realize that my mother is capable of providing infinite suffering and death while simultaneously nourishing and growing. She's not good or bad. I may have only lived in the swamp alone for a few months, but I learned this lesson every day, and I remembered it with every meal, every accidental trespass against an anthill, every lifeless body that I touched. I learned it so well, that when I held Cordelia's hand in my own for the first time, all I could see was a ghostly little caterpillar with something gnawing a hole through her heart, and when I saw Fiona standing in the doorway, head wrapped up like a queen, I felt her words prodding the soft spot on the back of my neck, just waiting to jab her power into me. It felt wrong, though. In the swamp, there wasn't no rhyme or reason to who lived and died. There wasn't no force but chance that let me bring anything back. I'd never been worried about nobody parasitizing me before, but here I was, away from my home, my plants, my rules, and I was bein' cased like a gator at a shoe convention. My mother may have allowed for sufferin', but she also allowed for good, and I figured out pretty quick that Fiona wasn't allowing for no good under the roof of that house. Bad vibes. Bad vibes from the spirits, from her, and from sweet Cordelia, who was witherin' away inside just like Fiona was on the outside.

The thing about parasites, and predators in general, really, is that they need something hearty to feed on. Cordelia may have been fragile back then, but even though her eyes were milky and she moved like she could use some grease in her joints, I could see that she'd make a fine meal for anyone who wanted to suck out her light. Someone, probably many someones, had been siphoning it off for years, and I could still see it. I could feel it. She made my heart beat like I'd been runnin'. She was gorgeous and damaged, like a chipped and cloudy crystal ball. Here she was, burned up from the inside and still trying to be mother to us all. I wanted to make my swamp mud into a pill that would pull out the poison-rub it on her temples to ease the thoughts that caused her forehead to wrinkle. I suppose there was a lot of motherin' back and forth those first few days. She was all business with her incantations and coaching, and I told her she was a great leader despite evidence to the contrary. We were both shadows of the forces that raised us, but while I was busy channelin' my mother's strength into lifeless plants, I could see the effects of Fiona's squirming larvae as they burrowed into her. She never had a chance, I thought. She was _exactly_ like those soft little caterpillars. Fiona'd hooked her early and hard, and she was doomed to live in shadow. She was a good teacher, and she made my palms itch with that sad, mismatched stare, but she was two parts stick in the mud and one part sitting duck, and that's not a combination that screams sex appeal, you know?

Then I watched her toss her husband to the curb and I had to rethink some things. And then she stabbed out her eyes and I realized I had been wrong about the whole direction of this shit show. I woke up to her face, raw and swollen and I wasn't lookin'at the same woman. Three days before, she had been a joke to everyone under her care. The sun was a hot pistol in my eyeballs, and she was a pillar of darkness at the foot of my coffin. Ain't no one saved me before. I had burned, been hunted, lived for months without the company of another soul, always resurrectin' to forget how it feels to die. She was the weakest of the house, but as she ran those pale hands across my arms and pulled me close, I knew that she was made of somethin' different than I had assumed: her light wasn't just good-it was deep and wild, the same as mine. Caterpillars is only soft because they're babies themselves, and babies is vulnerable because they don't have a choice in anythin'. Maybe stabbin' out those eyes was the last bit of baby meltin' away because after that, the last three days before I died in the Seven Wonders, I was wasn't livin' in a type-A, little girl's dollhouse. I was livin' in the house of a grown woman, and I had a case of nerves like I'd never felt.

The first time I knew I was in trouble, I was standin' in front of the mirror and I heard her cane tappin' down the hall. My stomach hurt whenever I heard it. I have a real empathy when it comes to pain, and that tappin' was a little jab into my own eyeballs every time it hit the floor. I knew exactly which clippers she had used to do it-had seen 'em gleamin' in Myrtle's hand as she tossed 'em in the trash. I don't know why, but I snatched 'em and wrapped 'em up real tight with one of my shawls under my mattress. She passed by my door and continued down the hall. Her left arm was stiff at her side, movin' like the Tin Man again.

"Miss Cordelia?" I called. The cane wagged through my doorway and she stood straight as a board in front of me. I didn't have a follow up and so I just stood there, useless.

"Misty?" she asked.

"Miss Cordelia, you're so very brave". It was all I could think to say, and I needed to say somethin' because I needed her to stay.

The old Cordelia would've deferred her bravery and credited anythin' besides herself, but the new Cordelia smiled at me sadly and her shoulders relaxed a little. "Thank you, Misty. It was the right thing to do. I don't regret it."

"I know I've said it before, but I owe you my life."

"Think of it as an early coronation gift."

"Miss Cordelia, that's a lot of horse shit. No one knows who the next supreme is gonna be." I walked over and took her hand. " But I wanna tell you…"

She interrupted me then, snatchin' her hand back. "What are you doing with the shears?"

I'd be lying if I didn't tell you I started to sweat. I had forgotten about her second sight. "Well…" I stammered, " I don't really know. I just thought…"

"Give them to me, Misty." She held out her hand and I felt my stomach go hollow as I obeyed her as quickly as I could, diggin' under the bed and handin' over the bundle like a guilty child. Her face was dark with suspicion as I blabbered at her, tryin' to explain that I hadn't meant anythin' by it and I wasn't some kind of murderin' pervert evil witch traitor thief or anythin' else she might be conjurin' up in her head. Her face was tense with emotion and as a last resort, I clasped her hand in mine, beggin' her to look and see that I wasn't tryin' to betray her trust. Her face froze for a minute and then she smiled and said my name so sweetly I wanted to cry. To hear her tell it, she saw into my heart and knew that I was never gonna hurt her, but the way I think it really happened is that she was so relieved that I wasn't plannin' a spell with them shears that she kind of resigned herself to likin' me again. Either way, she apologized for not believin' me and I hugged her close for the first time. Her battered eyelids touched my neck and I felt my magic leachin' into them, tryin' to heal. She must've felt it too, because she pressed herself closer, inhalin' and exhalin' deep breaths against me. I remember thinkin' that her shoulder blades were so pronounced, like little bird wings, and that her livin' and breathin' in my arms was more like family than I'd known in my whole life. She pulled away then, and her mouth looked sad. She held my hand a moment longer and turned away, sweepin' her cane in front of her as she left. Good lord, in five minutes I'd gone from pityin' her to squirmin' like a kitten at the thought of her disapproval.

The second time I knew I was in trouble was late that evenin'. We were all sittin' together at the table, eatin' some soup concoction that I'd never heard of (this was before I'd had the pleasure of bein' educated in international cuisine). I was next to Cordelia, glarin' daggers at Madison who sat as far from me as possible. Despite my impressive ass whoopin' earlier in the day, she was wearin' a smirk that persisted even when she sipped from her appropriately metaphorical silver spoon. Cordelia must have picked up on me gettin' riled because suddenly she was holding my hand under the table. She squeezed my fingers as her voice lisped over the second course, "Is something funny Madison?"

The bitch paused. "I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to. Your attitude is loud enough."

Madison rolled her eyes and swallowed, the scar across her throat risin' and fallin' like a wave. "You aren't slick, Cordy. You only have one trick. If you weren't so busy lezzing it up and holding hands with your girlfriend over there, you wouldn't be able to see shit."

Cordelia immediately let go of my hand, but instead of surrenderin' like I thought she would, she slid her palm under my dress to rest on my leg. I got the hint. "Wrong answer, Hollywood." I sneered, raising my hands in the air, "No lezzin' it up over here. Sorry to disappoint ya'".

Madison dropped her spoon and flashed me both her middle fingers. Cordelia immediately spoke up, "I won't tolerate any more of your vulgarity today, Madison. Put your hands down and take your dinner to your room."

Feeling smug, I made a V in front of my mouth with the fingers of my left hand and wiggled my tongue in Madison's general direction.

"You too, Misty. Tongues are for tasting, not taunting. Finish your dinner."

I blushed all over with embarrassment, but as soon as Madison got up and left, Cordelia gave my thigh a reassurin' squeeze and giggled softly. Queenie joined in, and then Zoe, and pretty soon, we was laughin' full force, and Cordelia's warm fingers lingered on my leg, tracin' her thumb back and forth under the black cotton. I blushed even deeper and she took her hand away, turnin' her flushed face to me with a grin. Things moved differently in those hours before the Seven Wonders. Cordelia swears that before Zoe came along, Miss Robicheaux's had been as still and fetid as a bog in summer, but whatever power was in the air changed all that. We had stabbed a man to death hours before, and here we were, potential enemies, potential sisters, sharin' somethin' as simple as a laugh and a meal. I thought of my two mothers, and I felt my heart hum. The coven was dangerous and kind and powerful. I try to forget all the teachins from the church on account of all the bad memories, but I felt a story risin' in my mind about findin' a land of plenty, and even though I don't necessarily pray, I said a silent thank you for the power and violence and sisterhood and greenhouse and for Cordelia's quiet confidence as her fingers and lips and throat turned eatin' into an art.

Friday night was my undoin'. I couldn't take the house. There's a difference between a swamp and a greenhouse. There's a difference between a house that breathes and one that don't. I opened the window as far as it would go, but I was still feelin' boxed in, so I decided to take a walk. Only problem is that I didn't trust the creaky old staircase not to wake everyone up, so I decided to see what I could do from the windowsill. I figured I needed to practice my transmutation anyway, so I sat on the sill and pictured myself walkin' along in the backyard. Nothin'. I tried imaginin' Cordelia's voice tellin' me to have stronger intent, and suddenly, I found myself standin' in her room. I would have taken myself back, but her light was on and she was sittin' in bed like she had been expectin' someone.

"I know it's you, Misty" she said quietly. "Did you come here on purpose?"

"No." I admitted, standin' still, "I was tryin' to practice for tomorrow. I'm not feelin' too good about it." Somethin' dawned on me. "How'd you know it was me?"

She smiled, "If you can keep a secret, which I know you can, my magical capabilities have been growing as well. I've been doing some research, and I believe that the power which will inhabit the new supreme is affecting all of us. It's just waiting to enter her, like a storm cloud hovering over this house. It would explain the chaos, the increase in magical abilities, the emotions, strange behaviors…"

"Like PMS from hell. We're all synched up."

She laughed and held out a hand to me. "Maybe it's no coincidence that you showed up. Come sit. I know you have questions about tomorrow."

I ambled over, takin' her hand and fiddlin' with it while I asked her all about the Seven Wonders. Turns out Madison and Queenie only had a little more experience than me when it came to the test, but they had been hearin' stories about it for years where Zoe and I were green to everythin'. Cordelia answered my inquiries with her usual encyclopedia talk, holdin' my hand all the while. I didn't want to keep her up, but I figured around the third time that she asked me if I had anymore questions that she wanted me to stay.

"I have two more, actually" I found myself sayin' with a sleepy, late-night confidence.

"Mmm hmm…" she responded, playin'' with my rings and strugglin' to stay awake.

"Are you gonna grieve your mama?"

"That's a doozy."

"I know."

"What's the second one?"

"What's the difference between my power of resurgence and the Vitalum Vitalis that I have to do tomorrow? Ain't they kinda the same thing?"

Cordelia smiled and leaned her skull back against the headboard. "I'll answer the hard one first. I've been thinking about my mother's death for a long, long time."

I took the time to study her. The black straps of her nightgown were slack as she leaned back. The taut skin of her chest barely covered the ridges of her sternum. Her hair was thick and straight and as she told me about her lonely childhood, I couldn't help reachin' forward and running my fingers through it.

Her breathin' came a little quicker, and it dawned on me that she could see what I was thinkin'. I didn't have no regrets, though, and I didn't say nothin'. Just listened as she told me about Fiona and the rotten years of loneliness and neglect. I felt my heart swell up like a bruised fruit.

"I don't want you to pity me." She interjected, "Everyone suffers. Fiona hurt me for a long time. She's dead now. A part of me will always miss her, always want my mother, but a larger part of me is relieved, because trust me, Misty, she would have killed every single one of us. You know as well as I do that sometimes we have to lose people more than once in our lives. Fiona's been dying for a long time-absent, hurtful, abusive, and then back in my life for one day of mothering before she was gone again. She's been dying for years."

"I know." I replied. I didn't know what else to say. I didn't really know. In my life, _I _seemed to be the one who kept dyin' and comin' back, but I didn't have nobody to care about it before Cordelia. I guess my relationship with death was a little different because it wasn't somethin' permanent. My mother was the same way. She had setbacks, sure, but she was always there-her life force in every tree and cloud and little frog.

Cordelia interrupted my musin'. "As for your second question, I don't think you have to worry about Vitalum Vitalis. Resurgence is a far more powerful trait. Vitalum Vitalis is a way to help someone who has recently passed on or sustained an injury. It's a trading of life-force to balance out the health of the person you're trying to help."

"Could I try it with you?"

"I'm not dead, Misty."

"You're blind."

She paused a long time. "I'm more useful to the coven this way."

"Just let me practice for a second. I won't do nothin' drastic. I just want to try." I could tell she was fightin' with somethin'. I slipped my fingers out of her hair and traced a gentle circle around her scars. "Miss Cordelia, if I'm the next Supreme, I'll bring your eyesight back for real. I promise I will. I think you're valuable with eyes or without. You deserve to see your flowers again."

She smiled at that and slid down until she was lyin' flat on her back. "Just for a second." She warned. "You need your strength for tomorrow."

I untangled our fingers and placed her hand in my lap as I leaned forward, palms on either side of her face. I pursed my lips above hers and prepared myself to start the flow of magic.I wasn't expectin' her to turn her head and lean up to kiss me. "I want to see _you_" she whispered, "If you're the supreme, restore my sight so that I can see your face." Her hand tightened against my leg, tracin' patterns again as I lay my forehead against hers and we breathed together. "Please be careful tomorrow. I know we haven't known each other for very long, and I have so much confidence in you, but please…" her voice broke. "I've been looking for you. I've felt you pulling at me. I don't know why, but I've been trying to find you, and now you could be gone again. Please."

I didn't know what to say and so I kissed her again. It didn't feel like I was kissin' someone for the first time; it felt like I was tellin' her I loved her for the hundredth. She reached both hands into my hair and rubbed my scalp. It was so gentle. Everythin' about that night was so gentle, so kind. She scooted over in the bed and tugged me down next to her so we was facin' one another. Then she kissed me and kissed me until we was both so tired that we fell asleep in each other's arms, our black dresses poolin' together as she slid her leg between mine and tucked herself under my chin. In all my years of searchin', I had never imagined myself findin' my home like this. Peace, yes. I had wanted peace. But I had never known that peace was a beautiful woman curled up in my arms, her hair silky on my shoulders. I ran my hand over the curve of her waist and felt her bones and her softness. To say I was overwhelmed was an understatement. As the morning light started creepin' into the window and the birds started chirpin', I held Cordelia closer and felt a fear of dyin'.

To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for the fantastic reviews and all the good vibes! I've decided to expand this story because I love writing Misty so much and I am just so in love with the two of them together. Still T for now, but I'm shooting for one more chapter...**

* * *

><p>I don't know why everyone thought that I was dead. I mean, besides the whole disintegratin' part. I guess I can understand that. And I guess that no one's ever come back once they've been trapped before. And the fact that everyone thought I was the supreme and when Cordelia completed the Seven Wonders, it meant that no one else could have lived through them. I suppose I see where they all thought I was dead, but what they didn't understand is that livin' is real simple if you have the power of Resurgence. Your body is practically beggin' to be put back together no matter what happens to it. Life is so easy. All you need is a body and a soul. It's the easiest thing in the world. Now granted, I had no idea that there were so many other places that a soul could live, and that it's actually pretty special to be alive because your body and soul are existin' in the same place at the same time, but when it comes down to it, a body's a machine and the soul is the electricity and that's all you need.<p>

The calendar and Cordelia agree that I passed two months in Hell-fifty four days of my human life spent killin' and resurrectin' the same frog. I felt the timelessness of it. Each cycle starts with a sense that somethin' ain't right, but you don't know what it is, and then you're in it, like a record skippin'. What kept me there wasn't so much the meanness of the kids or the fear of authority or anythin' like that. What kept me was the little frog's desire to live. I kept thinkin' about it each time I cut into her. You see frogs aren't like mammals-we don't understand the way they show what they love. They ain't interested in embracin' or communicatin' or the things we normally think of as affection. There's somethin' special about 'em though- a cool, watchful gaze they give when they know full well you ain't privy to any of their secrets. My frog wanted life, and each time she righted herself on the metal pan where she had just died, I saw her throat pulsin' and her smooth, slimy hands tense for a jump before I undid it all with a terrible, pressure from the scalpel. I wanted to just let her go, but instead, the steps of my betrayal played endlessly: grabbin', scarin', trappin', puncturin', slicin'. My screams hurt her eardrums. She was in hell just as much as I was, and it was her that helped me get out. One day, although I hesitate to call it that because there wasn't no true day or night, I found myself wishin' that I could save the little frog's soul. I wished it so much that I started to remember things. I remembered somethin' about trapped souls, and then, over the course of the next few killins, my thoughts got clearer. The frog was in Hell. _I_ was in Hell. I had uttered Descensum. And as soon as I realized it, I was released. Easy peasy.

Funny enough, when I left Hell, the frog came with me. Cordelia says there's an ancient ritual called Soul Retrieval, and that when your soul's trapped in the lower realms, it usually has an animal guardian to help guide it home. Well the frog was mine. She hopped down on the floor and I dropped my scalpel. I got up and walked after her, ignorin' the teacher and students who shouted jeers at me. The frog jumped along the floor and through the wall, and in my stupor, I followed, only to find myself walkin' down the hallways of Miss Robichaux's, memories all comin' back. The frog kept hoppin' and I kept followin' until she reached Cordelia's bedroom and traveled through the door again. I tried the knob, but to my surprise, I couldn't touch it. Turns out souls can't open doors if they ain't got a body, at least mine couldn't. I walked through the door instead, still not puttin' two and two together. Jet lag from Hell has a way of confusin' a person.

Her room was empty, but things was a little different. Her bed was unmade and an empty teacup sat on her nightstand- somethin' she'd never allowed before. There was colors in her room now: paintings and rugs- all of 'em black with rich reds and oranges and pinks worked in- tulips and peonies and lilies. A picture frame hung above her fireplace, and I followed the frog toward it. Turns out it was a livin' painting- a garden of succulents and vines that seemed to grow straight out of the wall. Below the hanging garden was a golden vase with a tight lid. I'd never seen an urn before, so I just assumed it was waitin' to be filled with some flowers and turned away. I faced her bed and remembered the night we'd spent together-the shy morning after when I'd watched her broken eyes across the pillow and smiled. I remembered the way she'd bit her bottom lip and grabbed my hip, pressin' herself close to me in the golden light that reflected off the white room, as barren and cold as a tundra. The house had been stirrin'. The smell of coffee was floatin' upstairs and the murmurin's and creaks of the floorboards surrounded us like crickets, but we was in our own little world. I swear that her fingertips tracin' along my waist were the most electric thing I've ever felt. I was meltin' and I told her so, every word vibratin' in my lungs with nerves. She kissed me then, in broad daylight, like this was _our _bed and we woke up in it together every mornin'. She cradled my head in her hands and her lips were tellin' me so much more about her than I had known. She was kind and soft and confident and knew what she was doin'. This wasn't somethin' she regretted; she knew more about it than I did, and I was content to just let it unfold under the direction of her love. All I knew was that her kiss was the best feelin' I'd ever felt-better than all the kisses I'd ever had, better than twirlin' to the climax of Rhiannon, right on par to meetin' Stevie herself. We were interrupted by a knock on the door and a worried announcement from Kyle that my room was empty and everyone thought I had run away. I shook with silent laughter as Cordelia leaned over me and shouted that I had decided to take a walk and calm my nerves. "Don't worry, Kyle" she soothed, sittin' up and pullin' me against her chest, "I'm sure Misty will be back within the hour."

I touched my lips at the memory and they didn't feel right. I felt flushed from rememberin', but my body was cold. I walked over to her bed and climbed in, but the blankets which had been so comfortin' just felt like air. I needed to see Cordelia. Somethin' was wrong. Reality was dawnin' on me that I wasn't back to my former self. I launched myself out of the bed and tried the door again, this time realizin' that I wasn't supposed to be able to walk through things like they wasn't there. I walked down the hall as quickly as I could and heard the laughter of young girls. The doors to all the rooms were open and there must have been twenty teenagers I didn't recognize hoverin' around the beds and mirrors, most of 'em dressed in black, lots of 'em grabbin' books and headin' to the staircase. I bolted down the stairs ahead of 'em and ran smack into Queenie- or rather, I ran straight _through _Queenie and felt her voice in my bones as she called out somethin' about an afternoon meetin'. Queenie must be the supreme after all, I realized.

The girls swarmed around me and I followed them into the sittin' room where I saw Zoe kneelin' down talkin' to a little one who couldn't have been more than eleven years old. The couches filled with girls, and they hovered and laughed brightly in every corner. I felt like I couldn't breathe. Queenie walked to the front of the room and clapped her hands, "Ok! Ok everyone! I need you to quiet down!"

The room fell silent. Zoe stood up and passed a note to Queenie who read it and nodded. "How's everyone doing today?" She asked the group. The girls gave a little shout of acknowledgement. A few whistled. "That good, huh?" she remarked, and the group giggled. "Ok this is going to be quick. Two things: You cannot. I repeat _cannot_ be going out alone anymore. Shikha is gonna be fine. She's coming home tomorrow, but she's a good example of what can happen if you start talking to people about your powers. You all know what happened to her. I'm not gonna repeat the gory details, but you all know the situation. Don't be stupid. Use the buddy system. Second thing: y'all are a pack of animals. We're implementing a chore wheel starting tomorrow. Everyone helps. No exceptions. If I find crumbs on my favorite chair one more time, I'm going to enchant your mouths shut. Any questions?" A little girl on the side waved her hand back and forth, but no one saw her and she lowered it with a scowl.

I clasped my hands in front of my mouth and smiled. I was so proud. I had missed her. I couldn't believe that I had failed to see her leadership when we had lived together. Zoe stepped up and cleared her throat. "Also," she added, "No more trips to the attic. It's on lockdown." The little girl on the side waved her hand again, but bein' as short as she was, she didn't get any attention. I realized that with the new Supreme on the rise, there must have been a spike in admissions. Cordelia was probably swamped tryin' to find space for all of 'em. I craned my head around to try and find her. I scanned the room and didn't see her anywhere. Dread started poolin' in my heart. What if I could never get back? What if she couldn't help me? I had no idea how long I'd been gone. What if she had moved on and found someone else? I didn't know where things had been goin' with her, but she had felt so real. I didn't think I could bear It if I had returned and had to spend my days watchin' her fall in love with another person.

I heard footsteps comin' around the corner and when I saw her appear, I knew I had misjudged the whole situation. She was wrapped in a black cotton dress that ended just above her knees. That blonde hair was fallin' wavy around her shoulders. She stepped closer and closer and I walked out to meet her, but she went straight through me. Her eyes. They were healed, and they were the color of a stag-beetle's shell, alive as a rabbit. She practically shook with the power within her. Dumbstruck, I followed as she picked her way through the girls to stand with Queenie and Zoe at the front of the room. She looked from left to right, surveyin' the crowd and smilin' warmly, shinin' with pride. I couldn't do nothin' but stand there at her side and stare into those big brown eyes. I needed her to see me., but I knew it wasn't gonna happen- a happy byproduct of Hell, I supposed, that I should be back here without a chance of joy. She opened her mouth to speak, but the little girl who had wanted to talk earlier stood up and interrupted in an exasperated voice, "Miss Cordelia! Who's your friend? She's tryin' to touch your face!"

Cordelia froze. "What are you talking about, Meisha?"

"The lady with the feather in her hair! She's been sitting here the whooooole gatherin' and now she's tryin' to touch you!"

Cordelia looked from side to side. "What's she doing now?"

"She's smiling, Miss Cordelia! She's jumping up and down and smiling! She hears me!"

"Misty?" Cordelia's eyes were wide and her lips trembled, her lisp more pronounced. "Misty are you here?"

I directed my voice to the little girl. "I'm here, Cordelia. I'm here, but I don't have a place…I don't have a body."

"Miss Cordelia! She said she's here but she doesn't have a body!" Meisha was practically jumpin' up and down herself.

"Meisha honey," I said calmly, "Tell her I need some mud and whatever's left of my body, ok? Can you do that?"

"SHE NEEDS MUD!"

"Mud?" Cordelia's brow furrowed.

"And the remains of my body." I hissed.

"AND HER REMAINS OF HER BODY! MUD AND REMAINS!"

"Ok girls." Cordelia breathed, tryin' to at least haphazardly restore the mask of authority, "Go about your business. The gathering is over. Devote tonight to studying. Queenie, Zoe…Misty…come to my room immediately. Meisha, you too."

The girls piled out and I kind of float/walked along next to the others as Meisha chattered at me, askin' who I was and where I'd been and if I was dead. At that question, I saw Cordelia's head drop and a noise like a sob hurled itself out of her throat. "No more death questions, ok Meisha? I asked. "Why don't you tell Miss Cordelia that she looks beautiful. And Miss Queenie that she had me believin' she was the supreme. And Miss Zoe that I missed her." Meisha did as I asked, and the group let out a collective chuckle, even Cordelia's mouth turnin' up although I could see when I flew in front of her that her cheekbones was wet with tears.

She opened the door to her bedroom and my eyes flew immediately to the fireplace where my little frog sat. "Tell Miss Cordelia that the frog came back with me, ok? Don't do nothin' to hurt her. She's the reason I'm here at all."

Meisha relayed the message in her childish way, and Cordelia bent down and gently scooped the amphibian into her graceful pale hands. "Do I have to kiss it or something?" she asked.

I laughed. "No Miss Cordelia. If it's ok with you, she can live in the greenhouse, but I wouldn't object to you kissin' _me_ when this all gets sorted out."

Of course that was the one message Meisha repeated word for word. You coulda heard a pin drop.

"Okaaaaay" Queenie finally stated. "I guess that clears up _that _question."

"You couldn't wait to say that with your own mouth?" Zoe asked in my general direction.

"I don't know if I'm ever gonna have a mouth again! Give me a break! I've been in Hell for Chrissakes!" Meisha relayed for me.

"Don't swear, Meisha." Zoe reprimanded.

"It wasn't me! I'm helping!" Meisha shot back, glarin' at me.

Oh my lord, I'd missed them. I walked over to Cordelia, who was bitin' her lower lip and grinnin' at the floor, her cheeks blazing. "Meisha, can you ask Miss Cordelia where I'm buried? The only chance we have of bringin' my body back is if we have a piece of it to work with."

After hearin' this, Cordelia promptly burst into tears, sittin' on the couch and clutchin' the frog in her hands.

"You _aren't_ buried, Misty" Zoe said gently.

"Girl, that's you up there. All we could sweep up!" Queenie pointed to the golden urn on the mantle.

We stood there together in silence for a minute, Cordelia's little sobs echoin' around us. I walked over to the mantle, crestfallen. However, as I stretched my hand out towards the urn, I felt somethin' inside it start to rumble and a heat began to emanate from the metal, the lid eventually shakin' like a toy cymbal. I understood. I was ashes. Well fuck me, I thought. That ain't nothin'. I've been ashes before and been just fine. "Ok Meisha," I began, "Let's get this sorted out so I can get back to myself."

To Be Continued….


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for all your kind reviews, everyone! I'm thinking of writing more for this story (just an epilogue) and beginning another Foxxay story soon. It's such a lovely pairing and there's so much poetry between them. I hope you enjoy it! **

**Merry Christmas, Little Vampire! This story is for you!**

* * *

><p>There was a heated dispute over every step of my Resurgence. First, Cordelia had insisted that everyone visit the swamp together to make sure that the mud we gathered was perfect, but I found myself trapped at the front door and couldn't leave the house. I guess bein' a ghost does that to you. Then she decided that everyone but me and Meisha would leave, but left us with her phone and password so that she could text us pictures of the swamp in order to ensure that they was collectin' from the right place. Meisha, bein' ten and in possession of the Supreme's phone, almost went on a power trip (and I almost let her), but decided at the last minute to be good and we only read a couple of her texts that came in. One, from someone simply named S.N. (like I couldn't tell who it was) read, "I'm so happy for you! Set your little phoenix free!" I don't know how it felt like my heart was beatin' when I had no heart, but the thought of my two favorite people in the whole world talkin' to each other about me made me woozy.<p>

Next, we all argued about where the ritual would take place. Cordelia was about ready to dump twenty gallons of mud into her bathtub, but I couldn't bear the thought of regeneratin' in that white room so I insisted that we do it in the greenhouse where I could be with the flowers and the frog. She started protestin' and insistin' that we had to do it somewhere we couldn't be interrupted, but I reminded her that the first time I came back, I'd literally been in a swamp filled with gators and I'd been fine.

"Maybe we should just use half the ashes…" she suggested dully.

"Do you want her to only half come back?" Zoe responded.

"I just don't want to lose her again, Zoe. We only have one chance if we use them all."

"It'll be ok Cordelia" Meisha said for me. "I know what I'm doing. We just need something like a bathtub that we could put in the greenhouse so I have enough room."

Before I knew it, she had waved her hands, and there was a loud crunchin' of metal and ceramic. She flicked her fingers and the sound of rushin' water quickly rose and then fell. I walked over to peek in her bathroom and wasn't surprised to see an empty space where the tub used to be. "Do we need anything else to get this started, Misty?" I heard her say from behind me.

"No." Meisha parroted

"Then let's get going." She grabbed my ashes and walked purposefully out of the room.

"I've never seen her like this" Queenie mumbled, followin' slowly.

Cordelia's voice rang down the hall, "Hurry up!" We scuttled after her.

Truth be told, my plan was pretty simple, and I didn't know for sure that it would work, there was no sense worryin' Cordelia with any doubts. They took buckets and buckets of mud and poured them into the clawfoot tub. Cordelia was shakin' like a leaf. Zoe asked if she wanted someone else to add my ashes, but she shook her head and carefully uncapped the urn. With tremblin' hands, she poured the contents into the brown sludge and stirred it all together as I directed. Almost immediately, I began to feel warm. Cordelia nervously looked from the tub to my vicinity several times.

A few bubbles rose to the surface. "Does that mean anything?" She gasped, kneelin' and peerin' over the rim.

"It's just bubbles is all. Nothin' else yet."

I mimicked her pose and wished that I could stroke her hair as she looked forlornly into the murky liquid. I knew that somethin' was happenin', but I realized as soon as I saw the ashes that this was gonna take much, much longer than it had before. At least a week. Maybe two. The heat I was feelin' was just a glow in my extremities, far from the white-hot burn that I had experienced back in the swamp. "This may take a long time." Meisha repeated for me. "You don't have to wait."

Eventually, everyone realized that I was right. If it weren't for me reassurin' them that I could feel it workin', it would've looked like just a nasty old bathtub. Zoe and Queenie left, promisin' to come check on me in the mornin'. Meisha was getting' sleepy and they took her, too. Cordelia walked out with a promise to return, and I kinda figured she'd check on me before she went to bed, but fifteen minutes later, she interrupted my inspection of some Venus fly traps as she banged through the door, hands full of stuff. She plopped it all on the floor and looked around, like she was hopin' she'd be able to see me. I walked over just as she started organizin' everythin' she'd brought: Books, blankets, clothin', a couple candles, and a colorful hammock woven out of tiny cords. She waved her hand and it flew up in the air, suspended by nothin' but her magic. She kept glancin' around and finally she started talkin'.

"Misty, I know you're here and I know you can hear me. I'm not leaving you alone." She paused, and I think she was feelin' kind of embarrassed talkin' to air, because she puttered around, messin' with stuff on the table before startin' to talk again. "I have to prep some herbs for the next potions class." She said awkwardly, like she had to explain to me what she was doin'. She started choppin' up chamomile and bay leaves and the other standard fare of beginner's alchemy. "This is for purifying the blood." She narrated. "This is for strains and sprains, but only if you use it as a poultice." It was almost painfully clumsy. She was blushin' and tappin' her foot the whole time. I decided to give her some space and wandered over to the concoction that held my ashes. Nothin'.

Cordelia continued to chop her herbs and tell me about it for about an hour before she eventually decided it was time for bed. She glanced around as she clutched her pajamas to her chest. "Don't look, ok?" she said lowly, as she started to undo the buttons of her slacks and untuck her shirt. I wanted to listen to her, but I wanted to see her naked more, so I just grinned and watched. She slid her shirt over her head real quick and tossed it on the floor before pulling a tight, white t-shirt on, which was a shame because I had only gotten a second to admire her stomach- toned and flat, porcelain white, tense below a red lace bra. She was strugglin' to be graceful and fast at the same time, so when she pulled her arms into the shirt to take her bra off, I couldn't help smilin' as she botched the job, gettin' tangled and stuck, her hair lookin' perfect and her mouth scowlin'. She finally ripped the bra out and discarded it. Her nipples were hard under the white cotton, and I couldn't remember ever thinkin' so much about seein' anyone's naked chest before. She was more graceful with the lower half, and my eyes kept creepin' between her long, pale legs and the V of her shirt. I had never imagined Cordelia dressin' so casually for bed, but she was crawlin' into the hammock in black yoga pants and the thinnest cotton I'd ever seen. She waved a hand and the candles floated up around her as she settled in with her blankets and books. "I'm going to read to you." She announced needlessly before openin' a well-loved copy of _The Mists of Avalon _and clearin' her throat.

Let me say this. Before Cordelia, I wasn't naïve. I wasn't some blushin' schoolgirl. However, all my experience with sex and love had come the way it usually comes to young people- sporadically, emotionally, and without any intention. I watched her swingin' slightly in the humid air of the greenhouse, and felt myself burn like the last log of the fire, pulsin' with a heat that's settled in after all the other wood has withered away. That's to say that I felt two things: that my feelin's for her came from a place in me that burned slow and true, and that her breath, body, and spirit in the same room as mine was like oxygen that made me ripple and glow. I was a landscape of appreciation for her, itchin' to touch and know and speak, and maybe it's because I didn't have a body, but my thinkin' that first night was some of the best thinkin' I've ever done. I mused about her as she slept, studied her, and came to the conclusion that even without a body, I was probably the luckiest woman in the world, however everythin' turned out. How many people swimmin' alone can say that they found a lifeboat, let alone land?

She woke up without any prelude as soon as the birds started chirpin'. Vaultin' out of the hammock, she ran to the tub and looked in. She leaned closer and a small smile appeared on her face as she saw what I had noticed in my night time inspection: there was a distinct outline of a human form on the surface, like someone had pushed a cookie cutter real lightly into the muck. "You're coming back!" she shouted. "You're coming home!" she dashed out of the greenhouse and returned five minutes later with very sleepy companions who made the appropriate noises of appreciation before turnin' and shufflin' back to bed. Cordelia stood over the tub with her hands on her hips and grinned that grin I love before tellin' me that she had to teach and would be back to check on me all throughout the day. She came in and said hello at ten o' clock and again at noon and again at one thirty. I could have left, I suppose, but I kept feelin' a pull from my growin' body and wanted to sit with it. We followed the same routine that night-Cordelia showin' up around seven with her book and her smile, confidence clearly shinin' with the evidence of my regeneration. My nerves was startin' to grow like little ant tunnels and if I concentrated, I could feel 'em pricklin' as they filled out the spaces that would eventually become my arms and legs.

Cordelia chattered all night until she went to was about my favorite thing I'd ever heard. She jumped from subject to subject- botany to Marion Zimmer Bradley, her recent conversion to veganism on account of her research on empathic connections, the sad story of one new student who had lost her sight to acid in Pakistan. It was like havin' a one-sided slumber party, Cordelia lyin' with her feet tucked up into the fetal position as she went on and on, tellin' me how excited she was for me to be back, how she couldn't wait to hear more about my life, my thoughts. No one had ever wanted to hear that particular combination before. In the morning, my bones was floatin' around like well-boiled jelly and she positively radiated joy.

The skeletal system is a particularly difficult endeavor when healin'. You see, most people don't realize that bones is just as alive and sensitive as muscles and skin. You break a bone and you think it's like a stick breakin', which is actually pretty accurate. Sticks is livin' things, too, filled with mazes and mazes of saps and channels and passages that keep the wood nice and strong. My bones was what troubled Cordelia the most, and what ultimately precipitated her intervention. On the fifth night of watchin', she started to get impatient, askin' Meisha to facilitate a conversation with me that amounted to a more thorough medical exam than any physician had ever conducted. How were my fingers? How would I characterize the feeling in my extremities? Could I feel a heartbeat in my neck? My chest? How many fingers was she holding up? I answered each question honestly and patiently, but I had to explain to her that time passes differently when you're not in a body and that I was fine with waitin'.

"I'm not." She answered, nervously lookin' at our underage interpreter.

"It's only been a week, Cordelia."

She glanced up and her eyes grew damp. Walkin' to the notepad she kept on the workbench, she began writin' somethin' and asked me to come read it. She held it up right at my eye level. _Misty, I miss you so much. You have no idea what happened the day you died. I need to touch you._

"You will soon. I promise" said a confused Meisha.

_Will you let me help speed things up?_ Cordelia scribbled.

"Do you know how?"

_I had a dream. Myrtle told me how._

"You communicate with the dead now?"

_I'm the supreme. I can do so many things I thought were impossible._

The room was silent for a second before Cordelia's pencil began movin' rapidly, her normally neat script turnin' messy and scrambled as she struggled to get everythin' out on the page as fast as possible. I read it over her shoulder. She must have thought I'd wait until she showed me because she was startin' and crossin' off sentences left and right.

_I don't know if you feel the same way, but_

_I've never felt this way before_

_I love you_

_I miss you too much to wait_

_I don't want to seem creepy, but I think about you all the time_

_No one else has brought me out of my shell before, not even my ex husband_

_I've never wanted to kiss someone as much as I've wanted you_

_I don't know where this is going, but I can't just sit here any more_

She crumpled the paper and started over. When she held it up, it read:

_I've built my house, Misty. I'm calling you home. Please let me._

That was it. That was everythin' I'd ever needed to hear. Meisha gave her my affirmative and was put out when Cordelia sent her off to bed. "See you soon, Misty." she called over her shoulder sullenly, her braided head bobbin' around the corner, sensin' that her special interpreter status was in its final hours.

I turned back to Cordelia and found her already hunched over my floating skeleton, murmurin' an incantation, light pulsin' between her hands. She spoke softly and sweetly, and for some reason, I couldn't hear her words. I felt the floor startin' to drop out from underneath me and tried floatin', but that didn't work either and I suddenly started collapsin' on the gritty bricks, starin' at the white feet of the tub, Cordelia's knees, the little frog, the spiders who scurried to surround me like an army. The floor was cool, the dirt as sharp as glass. Cordelia disappeared and I could hear a shufflin' and a roarin' as the scene around me changed between blurry shapes and impossibly detailed vignettes, each hair on each leg of the invertebrate life around me impactin' my eyeballs like a spiny work of art. Gradually, the only sounds I heard were the soothin' cadence of Cordelia's voice and the rustle of my hair crunchin' against the ground. My sight faded and I faced the future with a vague fear and utter confusion.

Before I opened my eyes, I smelled plants, all kinds of parts of plants-decomposin' stems and sweet flowers and bruised leaves and grass clippin's. I sniffed and sniffed, but that was all I could manage before I fell back asleep. When I opened my eyes, I saw a fat, pink peony starin' me in the face and I couldn't quite focus on it except to squint and blink and fall under again, cool hands resting on my forehead. Cordelia says I came back for real after three days of inhabitin' my body. The way she tells it, she was comin' through the door with a new crop of Birds of Paradise in her hands, and I was lyin' with my eyes wide open, just starin' at the ceilin'. The way I remember it, I woke up rememberin' everythin' but feelin' like I shouldn't move just yet, like I was lyin' out on a beach and relaxin'. Then I heard Cordelia's footsteps and she came flyin' at me and dumped the Birds of Paradise into the bath, wrappin' and all. We stared at each other for a minute and the tears started flowin' out of her eyes so fast they dripped onto my chest with a steady pitter patter. I smiled at her as big as I could. "Hiya 'Cordelia." I croaked. At that, she thrust her hands into the mud and cradled my face, bringin' her forehead to mine.

"Hi." She murmured, then pulled back and stared at me, all her teeth showin' with the smile she gave. "Hihihi." She pulled me gently upright and leaned in to embrace me, coverin' herself with mud and flowers as she stroked my hair and whispered to me and kissed my temples. I couldn't move my arms and I told her so, so she flopped them around her neck so she could get closer. I suppose under other circumstances, I would have been self-conscious bein' naked and all, but the last neurons were still making connections in my brain, so I didn't have no sense of bein' embarrassed or ashamed. She leaned me back and cupped her hands over my heart and breathed into the space she created. I felt life enter my limbs. Her hair was stickin' to my chest and her mouth felt so warm, breathin' across my skin like a thunderhead. I flexed my fingers and caught her chin, turnin' her face to look up at me, meetin' my gaze with her natural eyes for the first time. They were rich and warm and utterly filled with stars. She grabbed my face and planted her lips against mine, the raw nerves of my mouth sputterin' with the soft pressure.

She nursed me back to health. There's no other way of sayin' it. She transmuted us to a large bathroom and filled the tub with warm water and essential oils. She helped me in first, and as I lay there, strugglin' to stay awake, I watched her shyly shed her mud-caked blouse, skirt and bra, stepping into the water and sitting behind me, holdin' me up as she gently washed my body. Her hands worked through the tangles in my hair, dippin' me back so that I was warm from head to toe, my scalp tinglin' with her fingertip's gentle scratches. I couldn't help but shudder as she ran the washcloth up and down my legs, over my chest, every inch of skin as sensitive as a newly hatched bird. Her body pressed against my back was heaven. I drifted off as she ran her hands over my neck and shoulders, lettin' my head fall back against her chest as the warm water lulled me into a peaceful rest.

I woke up the next mornin' wrapped in her arms. I still felt like Jello, but at least I was Jello that had sat in the fridge for an hour or two. Cordelia had put me to bed in nothin' but a white, terrycloth robe. Her face was pressed into my neck and she was squeezin' me in her sleep. She must've sensed the change in my breathin', because she woke up real quick and leaned on one elbow to look down on me with weary pride. I managed to shift so that I was facin' her, and then everythin' just bloomed. Her hand slipped over my hip and pulled me close as she rubbed her cheek against mine, her other hand playin' with my hair. With a little bit of effort, I slid my arms around her neck and pressed my body into her warmth. "I love you." She whispered. "I love you."

Her lips brushed over mine. I didn't have no barriers. I know I whimpered against her mouth. The softness was almost too much for me to bear, and the little jolts of electricity that shot from her hand and lips straight to my chest were turnin' me into a tangled net of pure sensation. I grabbed the back of her head and kissed her back, kissed her deeply, and as her tongue gently caressed mine, the electricity spread until I felt feverish. She lay me back on the pillows and traced patterns up and down my sides, coverin' me with the blanket, tendin' to me, whisperin' her adoration until I couldn't take it anymore and I had to look into her eyes. They were so earnest I could cry. I took her hand and slid it under the fabric of the robe I was wearin', and she let it sit there on my hip, unmovin' but for tiny kneads from her fingertips. Her eyes were huge. My breath was hitchin' in my chest. She brought her hand up along my ribcage, bypassing my breasts as she rested it over my sternum.

"Cordelia, I want to feel your whole body." I confessed. She nodded and sat up, pullin' her nightgown over her head and barin' herself to me completely. I didn't have time to admire her, though, because she was busy undoin' the knot at my waist and divestin' me of my cover. She leaned over me and very slowly lowered herself until her skin and my skin was all that separated our spirits. I took a shaky breath and she let her forehead drop as her eyes closed and she sighed, murmurin' how good I felt and how beautiful I was. I had never laid naked with someone before. I folded my arms around her and felt her little ribs, her beatin' heart. She started kissin' my neck, and talkin' in a low voice I'd never heard, sayin' that she'd been imaginin' this moment since we first met. Every inch of skin her lips kissed was like a fire startin'.

Her hands was reverent, touchin' me like she was runnin' them over somethin' fine and expensive and delicate. I lay there overwhelmed, because although I wasn't no stranger to people wantin' to touch my body, no one had ever done it like I really mattered _aside_ from my body. I'd never kissed another woman before, but Cordelia clearly had. She must have, to be so comfortable guidin' my hips, negotiatin' all our hair, pressin' her leg between mine so I couldn't think straight when she slowly rolled against me. I know that my body still wasn't workin' a hundred percent after my resurgence and that I was sayin' please an awful lot.

"Please what?" she had asked, one hand twisted in my hair, the other inchin' down until she was holdin' my breast and squeezin' just enough to drive me wild.

_Please touch me_, I thought, _please keep goin', please love me, please stay with me, please, please, please. _ She circled my nipple with her thumb as she sucked on my pulse, and the only response I had for her was "Please don't stop" as I shook and held on.

She kissed me again, askin' me if I was sure I wanted to keep goin'. I told her I wanted to feel everythin' she had to show me and she groaned into my mouth, her pelvis pressing into mine hard. That must have been the permission she needed, because she wasn't so gentle after that. Her body flushed as she hitched my leg over her hip, and I was spread against her, wet, open, burnin' up with need-the same warm heat that her body left against my own thigh as she pressed down, grindin' slowly until I felt my chest turnin' red and my breathin' speed up and I grabbed her hair and kissed her as hard as I could because I had to relieve the pressure buildin' between my legs somehow.

She was lettin' out the sweetest little sighs against my lips and I would have been happy if we'd just kissed all morning, but then she shifted and brought a hand down to trail up my thigh and I knew in an instant that I needed more than kissin', and that if kissin' her was making me feel this good, her fingers glidin' along my skin would feel a hundred times better than anythin' I'd felt before. She traced circles around me and I had to shut my eyes because lookin' at her and feelin' her was too much for me to take in at once. Her lips were swollen and her eyes were impenetrable. Her skin was dewy and radiant and smooth, her breasts against my own were the softest sensation I'd felt. I was weak as a kitten and all I could do was pant and gasp and moan while she gently slid her fingers into me and used her thumb to keep my nerves firin' constantly while she started to move, whisperin' that she wanted to make me feel good, that she wanted to show me how much she loved me.

I buried my face in her neck and held on to her for dear life as I felt her fingers curl inside of me. I had read about different types of orgasm before, experimented a little, touched myself to see what I could feel, but I knew that she was going to make me come undone like I had never been able to do alone. She buried herself inside me and trailed her lips down my body, kissin' my clavicles, my ribs, my breasts, my hips, until she dragged her tongue between my legs and sucked, and I lost my mind. I shook and trembled and squeezed her fingers and gasped and swore up and down to Jesus and all the saints before I found myself lyin' completely limp and repeatin' her name. "Cordeliacordeliacordeliacordelia."

She enfolded me, her arms holding me tight, her legs tanglin' with mine. I couldn't even begin to move, my body like a misfirin' electric grid. She smiled against me as I shivered and clutched at her, lettin' the reality set in that I had escaped Hell only to find everythin' I'd ever wanted waitin' for me on the other side. She kissed my hair and hummed a little melody into my ear. I fell asleep knowin' that as soon as I recovered, I was going to set my roots down in this new life and grow.


End file.
